The year was 1962.
I had just been selected to attend Officer Candidate School (OCS) at an Air Force base in Texas.
I knew it would be a very tough six-month course — it turned out to be even tougher — but there was one bright spot.
After three months, I would get a one-week break and would be able to witness the birth of our first child in Florida. An event that was “scheduled” to occur right in the middle of my break.
Right on schedule I flew to Florida during my break and had the immense pleasure of seeing my very pregnant wife.
As the days of my very short break ticked away, we kept hoping that the baby would be born soon, before my return to OCS.
But it was not to be.
I was later told that as soon as the aircraft that was taking me back to Texas took off, my wife went into labor.
Back at my “labor camp,” I was able to sneak in a phone call or two to my wife while she was in the hospital.
She had given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy.
The baby was so healthy and content that he hardly ever cried.
Hoping to hear his “voice,” I called a couple more times — no luck.
Remember, these were the days before the internet, before video conferences.
Not having the luxury of long phone conversations and desperate to hear “proof of life” at the other end of the line, my wife and I agreed that desperate times called for desperate measures and she pinched the baby — not too hard I hope.
Lo and behold, I heard our son “talk” for the first time, although a little angry with his mother for “making him talk.”
It was probably the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, a sound that kept me going for the next three months of hell.
Why am I telling you all this?
Perhaps to illustrate a little bit the family separations our military endure when they sign up to serve their country, as I promised in a comment here.
Now, this little “incident” and some of the relatively short separations from my family which I experienced during my military career don’t hold a candle to what so many of our service men and women endure.
I am referring to those military Dads who don’t see their loved ones for months — sometimes longer — while at some remote assignment or during combat duty.
I am referring to military Dads who don’t get to hold their babies for weeks and months after they are born — sometimes do not even see their images for days or weeks.
I am referring to military Dads — and now Moms, too — who embrace their young ones one final time as they embark upon assignments that will take them thousands of miles away for what must seem an eternity to them.
Of course, today these men and women have a choice.
They don’t have to join our Armed Forces. They can stay home, get an education, get a good job, buy a nice home and see and hug their loved ones morning, noon and night — day after day. No one would or should criticize them for making such a choice.
They know that, if they “join,” they will endure separations from their loved ones — sometimes for weeks or months, sometimes longer.
As Army Sgt. Walter H. Lowell, from the 17th Sustainment Brigade at Camp Arifjan, Kuwait, puts it, “It’s a tale as old as time: soldiers bidding farewell to their families to serve in a faraway land.”
Some of our military Dads are fortunate enough to be able come home to hold their newborn in their arms even if it is for just a few days, as four Nevada Army National Guardsmen deployed to the Middle East, 7,000 miles away from home, did so recently.
But even so, the military leave period runs out way to soon and then it is time to return to the ship, post, camp or base and, if they are lucky, watch their babies grow via the internet.
And, yes, the internet is a blessing.
One of four Guardsmen mentioned here, who recently were able to visit their newborns, Army Staff Sgt. Kevin Reed, is one of those lucky ones:
Reed uses any chance he gets to talk to his daughter. “I get to video chat with them all the time,” he said. “I get to watch her grow up. She is growing fast.”
“The internet connection now is much better,” Reed said. “It’s hard being away from them, but with technology, it’s as if you’re right there with them too, and the time will go by so quick while you’re here.”
Ave, daughter of Army Staff Sgt. Kevin Reed, an information technology specialist with the 17th Sustainment Brigade, Kuwait, was born Feb. 17, 2016. Courtesy photo
Not being there for the birth of your first child; missing out on your children’s birthdays, graduations, perhaps even a wedding; not being home for the holidays, missing your son’s first baseball game or your daughter’s prom or first date, all on top of frequent moves, jerking your kids in and out of schools, etc. are just some of the sacrifices our military make. Then there is the “ultimate sacrifice.”
Most young men and women know darn well the hardships that await them in the military.
So why do they serve?
I know why I did.
Some may do it for the training, education, travel, “adventure,” medical benefits, etc.
Yet, I am sure that the vast majority decide to serve their country in the armed forces to “serve” in every sense of that word, to protect their country.
One thing for sure, one does not join the military to get rich or for pure financial reasons.
No reenlistment bonus, no meager “family separation allowance,” no combat pay, no hardship duty pay, no hazardous duty pay is worth leaving your loved ones behind or being absent for the most precious events in their lives.
It has to be something else. Could it perhaps be just plain, old-fashioned patriotism?
Lead photo: Army Staff Sgt. Bryan Jovel, currently deployed to the Middle East with the 17th Sustainment Brigade, kisses his daughter, Brooklyn, born April 15, 2016. Courtesy photo
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